


Burdened

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Bittersweet Ending, Can you tell by now that I like sickfics?, Caretaking, Caring, Carrying, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Fever, Fever Dreams, Hand Feeding, Influenza, Mid-Canon, Multiple Selves, Nightmares, Pajamas & Sleepwear, Self-Esteem Issues, Sickfic, Tenderness, Vomiting, Vulnerability, Weakness, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Jameson has hidden the fact that he’s sick from the others for too long; now that he’s at the end of his rope, they do their best to show him that he can always trust them to pick him up when he falls.





	Burdened

They found Jameson on the floor in the bathroom, wracked with chills as he hugged the rim of the toilet and dry-heaved.

Naturally Chase was the first to rush forward with a panicked cry of “Jem!” as he skidded onto his knees beside him. Questions burst out of him too quickly for Jameson to answer them as he took in the younger Ego’s terrible pallor. “What’s brought this on? Was it something you ate? How long have you been here?”

Jameson simply bit his lip and shook his head, regretting it just as quickly as another gag forced him to hide his face in the toilet again. The next time he looked up, Chase instinctively laid the back of his hand against his forehead, inhaling sharply and twisting around to beckon hurriedly for the doctor.

“Schneep! Schneep, he’s—”

It took barely a moment for Schneep to brush a hand over Jameson’s cheek and announce agitatedly, “You’re burning up. Chase, help me with his vest and shirt, all the little buttons—we need to cool him down.”

Even as he weakly lifted his arms for Chase and Schneep to help him stand on trembling legs, Jameson flushed and his speech slide flickered shamefully.  **“I-I don’t…it’s not…proper…”**

“We’re all slightly different versions of the same body, JJ, it’s nothin’ we haven’t seen before,” Chase brushed it off as he deftly tore past the buttons and peeled off the younger Ego’s layers of clothing. Jameson swayed dangerously as he did so, until Chase finally threw his sweat-soaked undershirt off to the side and grabbed his arms to steady him as his eyes fluttered and his legs started to fold underneath him. “Whoa—! Okay, okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he soothed, murmuring other meaningless reassurances as he hugged Jameson against him for support. “Schneep?”

“I’m working on it,” Schneep answered immediately as he turned the water in the shower up to an icy roar.

Jameson slid onto the floor of the shower as soon as Chase guided him in; the pressure of the water thundering against his back was enough to bowl him over. Curling into himself and shuddering violently, he heaved a convulsive sob and let his head droop against his knees. Schneep nodded sympathetically, assuring him that he was doing well and carefully patting his back; he didn’t care about how soaked the sleeve of his lab coat was getting.

“Chase, go take looksee in his room, would you?” the doctor commanded over the water. “See if he has loose, comfortable nightclothes.”

“On it,” Chase agreed, taking off.

Pursing his lips, Schneep returned his attention to Jameson, leaning over to twist the knob and ease the flow slightly so Jameson wouldn’t be washed away by it. “Why did you not tell us you were sick, hmm?” he questioned worriedly. “Jamie? Did you think we would not care?”

 **“D-D-Didn’t…want t-to be a bother,”**  Jameson chattered, his slide shifting for Schneep to see even when he didn’t lift his head from his knees.

“Well, now look at you like  _this!_ ” Schneep pointed out, a touch of sternness bleeding through his worry. “I could have caught this  _before_  it came to ice water!”

**“I’ll b-be sure to keep it in mind next t-time, doc…”**

If Schneep had his way, there would never be a “next time”, but with their unpredictable lives, one never could tell what illness or injury lay around the corner. Schneep’s grim musings on it were interrupted as the door slammed back open, bringing with it a wash of cold air and Chase, holding out a PMA sweater and a pair of sweatpants.

“He’s only got wool pajamas; they’d be too heavy with him feverish like this,” he burst out.

“Alright, this will serve,” Schneep decided, lowering the water pressure little by little before finally turning it off. “I’ll get him dressed. In the meantime, you give Jackie and Marvin a little ring and let them know the little one is down sick.”

Jameson’s head finally came up at that, though not without a struggle.  **“No, n-no…doc, p-please,”**  he pleaded faintly. **“I don’t want…don’t want to c-cause a greater fuss—”**

“I’m already dialing,” Chase cut him off, causing his shoulders to slump in despair as Schneep hefted him out of the shower and leaned him against the wall for a thorough toweling. Even the softness of the towel made his body ache rawly wherever it touched him and now that he was stiff with the cold, he could hardly lift his arms for Schneep to pull the sweater over them. The sweatpants took even more wrangling; by the time Jameson stood fully clothed before him, he looked about ready to faint.

“Let’s get you to the couch,” Schneep suggested intuitively, lifting Jameson’s limp arm and draping it over the back of his neck. “Here we are, Jamie…Lean on me.”

The gentleman gladly obeyed, shuffling slowly along with him away from the cold bathroom tiles to the vaguely itchy hallway carpet and then the soft rugs in the living room. It seemed that the couch was reserved as the care area whenever any of them were sick; he’d seen Chase and Jackieboy both use it before when migraines and the flu had brought them down. As soon as he hit the cushions, Jameson felt a good deal of the tension sink out of him and released a large breath, nuzzling his face into the pillow Schneep produced seemingly out of nowhere.

“There…” The doctor’s voice was just as soft as the blanket he was draping over his quivering shoulders. “Isn’t that better?”

 **“Much obliged,”**  Jameson murmured blearily, making himself as small as possible under the blanket’s folds.

“I can’t get through to Jackie, but Marvin’s on his way,” Chase announced as he pocketed his phone.

“Well, better one than none,” Schneep sighed, perching on top of the coffee table and leaning his elbows on his knees, scanning Jameson for several moments before leaning forward and combing damp strands of hair away from his warm skin, earning a light flinch of instinct from the younger Ego before he realized it was what he wanted and leaned his head forward into the comfortingly cool touch.

 **“I-It hurts…”**  Another series of more pronounced shivers raked through his tightly curled body as he blinked miserably up at his caretaker.  **“Doc…Hurts…”**

“Shh, shhh, I know it does, Jamie. I know. Just close your eyes and try to get some rest.”

It didn’t take long for Jameson to doze off with Schneep’s hand running gently through his hair, but when he wrenched awake again, clutching at his throat and trying futilely to scream, the hand was gone. Schneep was gone, he was—He had to be  _dead_ —his nightmare was true! Antisepticeye had returned, he’d killed all of the others; their bodies were waiting for him in the next room!

The disoriented, terrified Ego’s flailing feet swept the edge of the blanket onto the coffee table, knocking aside a glass of water that had appeared there with a noisy clatter- _splash_. It would draw the demon’s attention; he had to hide!

“Jameson?!”

 **“Don’t let him kill us too!”**  Jameson cried out, struggling to rise and reach out simultaneously as Marvin rushed into the room.  **“Mercies, he’s here! He’s going to murder us!”**

“Hey—Hey! Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Marvin exclaimed in alarm, helpless to do anything but open his arms to catch the other as he flung himself upright and promptly tumbled over the blanket as it tangled around his legs. The landing in Marvin’s arms was gentle enough, but Jameson was already dissolving into anguished, delirious tears.

 **“Don’t…don’t let him hurt us…”**  he begged as Marvin eased the both of them onto the floor before Jameson could hit it with force by collapsing.  **“He’s…H-He’s…”**

“It was just a nightmare,” Marvin hushed him, cradling his head as he pressed his face into his shirt. “No one’s coming to hurt us. I’m right here. We’re safe. It’s alright…it wasn’t real and it’s not gonna  _become_  real. I promise.”

Jameson’s shaky, panicked breaths eventually evened out into hoarse, near-incoherent whispers, mostly inaudible, as he wavered in the fever world that lay somewhere between conscious and subconscious. Distantly he felt Marvin sliding one arm under his knees and the other around his lower back, lifting him just enough to deposit him back onto the couch cushions.

 **“Thirsty…”**  he mumbled as he sprawled back against the sweat-stained pillow, drifting back out of the waking world before Marvin could reply. He didn’t dream this time, thank heavens, so the next time his eyes opened he didn’t have panic coursing through his veins. All he felt was the deeply rooted fever ache gripping every bone in his body and rattling them together in an unholy chorus.

“Hey there, Jem,” Chase greeted softly, perching on the edge of the couch cushions and leaning over him like the well-trained parent he had once been. “How’re you feeling?”

At this point Jameson couldn’t find any words for a response, pressing his clammy hands over his face and moaning wretchedly into them. He may have gone unheard, but Chase still seemed to get the picture, rubbing his nearest shoulder.

“You’ve still got a temperature but it feels like it’s gone down a little,” he mentioned, trying to sound reassuring.

 **“Does it feel that way? Are you quite sure of it?”**  Jameson’s shoulder shook under his hand with an incredulous cross between a laugh and a sob.  **“I only feel _worse_.”**

Chase paused for several moments, apparently sensing something that Jameson wasn’t noticing, and then a small, rueful smile touched his face. “Well, it smells like Schneep’s making his classic potato soup for you. That’s a miracle potion there, so long as your tummy’ll take it.”

Sure enough, once he strained his ears Jameson could catch strains of dishes clinking in the kitchen just outside, but the one who brought the soup in to him wasn’t the doctor.

“Now here’s our JJ,” Jackieboy murmured as he moved past the coffee table with the steaming bowl balanced in his hands. “Chase, would you mind—?”

“Sure thing.”

Within moments the coffee table had been dragged a few feet back and one of the kitchen chairs had taken its place. When Jameson peeked up at the older Ego, he couldn’t help but notice how filthy and bruised Jackieboy looked—yet here he was, smiling compassionately down at him as he spooned up some of the broth for him.

Jameson’s eyes filled with fresh, reflexive tears as they tracked the spoon’s course toward his face. How could they be so kind when his illness was nothing but an inconvenience for them? How could Jackieboy sit across from him without a single thought to his own condition, without even washing his face, and try to care for him?

“Eat up,” the hero prompted patiently.

It seemed that question would go unanswered for now, Jameson decided, blinking hard against his painful gratitude as he sipped from the spoon.

Chase was right. It was the best soup he’d ever tasted, even if his tears made it a bit saltier.


End file.
